


Untitled

by Milo1234



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Cussing, Disabled Character, Gen, Guns, Magic, Minor Violence, NaNoWriMo 2020, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Posting as I edit, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Underage Drinking, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milo1234/pseuds/Milo1234
Summary: Ight so a long time ago, there were sorcerers/sorceress's who could enchant objects. Now all that's left behind are the objects, the sorcerers/ess's all died. use of these artifacts is now illegal, by order of the queen of Quiv. The same queen who's quickly conquering the continent of Quivic. I'd rather not spoil anything so I guess I'll leave it at that.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Divided into scenes instead of chapters, each one is around 1,000 words long. Also, this is my nanowrimo for 2020, most of it is already written but not edited, so as I edit them I'll post them. Maybe someday I'll post it as a final draft made up of chapters and edited more thoroughly.

Shale ran through the writhing streets of Hound Valley, clutching what looked like a rusty nail to any observer. His feet ached as they slammed against the gray concrete, and his head was filled with sharp, heavy pain. The sky swirled with smoke that stung his nose when it reached him. Soldiers filled the streets, loading their vans with everything from wheat to torn, faded dolls. Occasionally, Shale spotted an abandoned child being hoisted into the back of a van. Everywhere he looked, people were wailing, begging for mercy, or for help. But it was everyone for themself in Quiv, which Shale knew better than anyone. 

If he could get to his abandoned building next to Sharktooth Tavern, he’d be safe. There was a large number of old, empty structures throughout Quiv, and if you knew how to get around boarded up windows, they made good shelter. Unless you got yourself stuck halfway across the city on Tit-For-Tat Day, and got smothered by a stampede of fleeing civilians before you could make it anywhere close to the shelter. 

This was officially the worst thing to happen in Shale’s nineteen years of living.  _ Worse than the Orphanage, worse than being abandoned as a baby, and definitely worse than living on the streets as a ten-year-old. At least my talisman could help me back then. It’s useless for last-minute scrambles across the city.  _ He saw an opening in the miserable crowd and darted off towards a side-street, hoping to escape the ocean of people that was the main road.

He turned the corner and ran headlong into a soldier. The man turned to look at him, and the intense sunlight of midday glinted ferociously from the contents of his claw-like hands. Behind him crouched what looked to be a family of four, arms around each other, the children crying in their mother’s arms. 

“And what do  _ you  _ have for the Queen, young man?” The soldier asked with a smirk.

“I-” His eyes met the woman who was crouched, holding her children. She seemed to plead with her eyes, asking him to help her. “I already donated, sir.” he choked out faintly. The problem was, he  _ could  _ help her. In his hand he held his talisman, and he could save her and her family if he wanted to.  _ Well, I don’t want to. It’s not my job. The fact that I have it doesn't give me some moral obligation to save  _ anyone.  _ I’m not obligated to do anything _ . 

“Are you sure? What’s in your hand, then?” The soldier took a step closer. He loomed over Shale, and one of his front teeth was made of gold. Shale could now see that the things glinting in his hands were canned food.  _ He must have taken them from the family.  _

“It’s a nail.”

“A what?”

“A nail.” Shale opened his rust-stained palm to show the soldier his talisman. 

“Well,” he chuckled, “The Queen doesn’t need a rusty nail. You can keep it. Now, off with you.” He turned back towards the family of four. Shale didn’t hesitate before pivoting and darting off, laughing to himself. He would kill to see the look on that soldier’s face if he ever discovered the true nature of what he’d just gladly dismissed as garbage. The rusty nail in Shale’s hand was one of the only things still remaining from the age of sorcery. It had gotten him out of the Orphanage as a kid, and got him money and food every day.  _ Obviously I couldn’t give that up just to save a couple randoms on the streets. And anyone who thinks I should’ve is a fool. All I care about, and all anyone should ever care about, is themself. Selfishness is a myth. _

He made his way towards his home, trying to ignore the glaring sun, sharp smell of smoke, and struggling people. By the time he was closing in on his street, the sun had cooled a bit, and the chaos of the main road was behind him. The world was, mercifully, quiet again. Unfortunately, his headache hadn’t subsided with it, though. 

He was about to turn the corner onto Sharktooth Street, and finally be safe in his shelter next to the tavern, when a yell sounded from behind him.

“Hey! You there!” he wheeled around. Across the alleyway, the only other people on the street, two soldiers, were approaching him. Shale froze. Everyone knew that soldiers in less-populated areas were the most brutal on tit-for-tat day, as they were more desperate to gather the minimum tax quota with less victims to choose from.

“What have you got there, in your hand?” Asked one in a sinister tone, fiddling with the glimmering, red pin on her uniform. Shale eyed the badge, and the Queen’s seal that was plastered onto it. Framed by blonde hair, the woman’s face was smug.

“It’s nothing.” He held it up into the light.

“Huh. Turn out your pockets.” she grumbled, obviously disappointed.

Shale sighed, annoyed, but didn’t argue. If the soldiers got violent, he didn’t stand a chance unless he used his talisman. And if they saw him use it, they’d take it and turn him in to the Queen. So he went through each pocket of his frayed cargo pants, until the soldiers were satisfied that they were empty. He always left his makeshift shelter with empty pockets, so they could be filled throughout the day. All he’d stolen yesterday were coins, which he’d immediately spent to get drunk, before stumbling all the way to the other side of the city and passing out. 

“Where do you live?” Asked the other soldier, a man that looked to be about his age, and had close-cropped brown hair.

“No house,” he said, which was true enough. He was hoping they’d leave him alone when they realize that he didn’t have anything to give them

“Well. That old nail will have to do, I suppose.”

“What?” Shale froze.

“The nail. Hand it over.”

“Why?” His heart sped dangerously. No one had ever been interested in it before. 

“Why not? Now hand it over.”

“No!” He tried to dash past them, but the blonde woman gripped his wrist. She reached for his talisman, and in a panic, he shouted, “Give!” He felt his pockets sag with the weight of the things the woman had been carrying with her, and the tight hug of a bulletproof vest around his torso. She let go of him in shock. This was why Shale never stole from soldiers. They had far too many things that the magic of his talisman deemed useful enough to give him. A couple coins disappearing was unnoticeable, but heavy weapons and bulletproof vests were so bulky that there was no mistaking what had happened.

He took the soldier’s momentary shock as an opportunity to escape, and ran off, ignoring the shouts behind him. Tomorrow he’d sell some of the gear, keep the rest, and escape to the other side of Quiv, where the soldiers couldn’t find him. But first, he’d sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! Constructive criticism is also welcome.


End file.
